A Blank Sheet of Paper
by CraftAndBurn
Summary: The difficult path that led a young boy to become the third L.
1. Chapter 1: Bang

**Obnoxiously Long Author's Note: **Thanks for deciding to check out my story.

The first author's note is long, I apologise. It's to avoid too much blathering at the start of chapters.

Before we begin, there's a few things that I should probably clarify. The first and most important is that I like to make my readers think. I've been told that modern readers don't _like_ to be made to read between the lines… but I think better of you. There will be things that are left unclear, and opportunities to let me know what you think might be going on.

The second is that some of the things mentioned in this story may have been featured outside the 'main' series – that is, outside of the manga and anime. Some facts will have been picked up from Relight: L's Successors, and also from the post-series oneshot manga.

The third and final point is the obligatory disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. If I did, this stuff would hardly be fanfiction. To those of you who are still here after all that… well, thank you, and I hope you enjoy the story.

**Chapter One: **_**Bang**_

**Age Four**

The air was tense.

A husband and wife sat in front of a large, cluttered desk, in a room full of toys, brightly coloured pictures and puppets. Behind the desk sat a doctor. On the desk was a nameplate reading "Dr. Luke Warburton (MD) – Paediatrician".

On the floor next to the desk, fascinated by a toy train set, was a small, boy with curly, pale hair, and next to _him_ was a stuffed teddy bear. His mother and father thought that, despite his discomfort, he appeared relatively content, _normal_. Dr. Luke Warburton, however, did not.

"Of course, I can't be sure right at this moment," he was saying to the two parents he was sure were only half-absorbing what he was saying. "We'll need to do further tests. I'd like to refer him to a child psychologist, if you'll let me."

Neither the mother nor the father responded.

"Mr. and Mrs. River… I know this is difficult for you," he continued patiently, glancing sideways at the little boy who appeared to have no interest in anything they were saying. "But it's better knowing sooner than later. It could be a false alarm. But if it isn't, it's better we find out now, for his sake, so we can help him."

A further silence followed. After a few seconds, a devastated Mrs. Rivers finally nodded, indicating her consent. As Dr. Wharburton wrote down the details of one of his colleagues, she looked down and watched her son play. She'd never thought there was anything unusual about him. She had thought he just liked to play, was shy of other children, enjoyed being by himself with his toys: a quiet, oddly intelligent, but completely unremarkable four-year-old. But now she was being told that there might be a problem. There might be something wrong. No, not wrong – _different_. She couldn't say _wrong_. This was her baby. Whatever he was diagnosed with, he was perfect. There was nothing wrong with him.

Just different.

"I know this is hard on both of you, but please don't forget to pick up his antibiotics," the doctor reminded the couple as they left with their son, a phone number in the woman's bag. "As long as he takes that his ear infection clear up in a few days."

"Thank you, doctor."

o-o-o-o-o-o

"It's your fault."

"Please, dear, not tonight."

"There's something wrong with him, and it's not in _your_ family…"

"Josh, please, he's _right there_, he can hear you…"

"He's _four_, Fiona. He doesn't get it."

Nate River observed his parents' distress with understandable confusion. After all, he was only four years old. He was a surprisingly intelligent child, but he didn't understand what infidelity was and what genetics meant yet. However, he what he did know what happened when his father started to talk loudly and his mother put her hands up near her face. He left the kitchen, trailing his teddy behind him. This was the bang bit and he didn't like the bang bit.

"He got this – this _brain disease_ from _him_."

Nate pushed the door closed behind him, walked down the hallway, and began to climb the stairs on his hands and knees, as he often did.

"This is _your fault_. This happened because _you _couldn't keep your hands off that – that _sleazeball_!"

He got to the top of the stairs, and he hadn't been fast enough, because he wasn't very fast. They already gotten to the bang bit that scared him, and it wasn't just voices anymore, and his mother didn't use words and his father started to shout so loudly that he could hear it even when he was all the way up here. His mother wailed, and his father said 'not mine' and 'cheat' and also lots of words that he didn't understand yet.

"If I have to deal with this because of _him – _I'll – he's not even _mine, _Fiona! Think of the doctor's bills! If he's… you'd better hope he's normal or so help me I'll teach him to be normal the hard way!"

Nate went into his room and shut the door tight behind him. He found his robots, red and blue, sat down with his back to the door, and he made them fight each other. He tried to pretend that they were the ones making all the noise. Because he kind of knew that they weren't real, and you could rebuild robots if they broke.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Sometimes, his father went outside for a long time, and when he came back things were a little different.

His mother would have gone to bed much earlier than usual. Nate would always wonder why the landing light went off at a different time when his father wasn't around.

When his father came home, he would sing. Nate didn't know if he was happy or sad when he sang, because sometimes he would cry, and other times he would laugh. Nate didn't know why his father did either of those things, and his father never said.

Tonight was different again. Instead of going to bed early, she came into his room holding his little backpack and switched the light on.

"Oh, honey, you're awake," she said softly, already opening the chest of drawers near the door. "Listen, Nate, I was thinking we'd go out for a little while. A little adventure, how does that sound?" She caught him watching her intently and, after a moment's pause, picked up the nearest toys to her and handed them to him – his red and blue robots.

Something was different. Within seconds his mother had crammed some random clothes into his bag, and had lifted him out of his bed and carried him down the stairs. She set him and his backpack on the floor by the front door, picked up her car keys from the little table in the hallway, and took hold of a suitcase.

"Take your bag, Nate," she said as she opened the front door, and he followed her outside, his backpack and teddy dragging behind him from his right hand and his robots tucked under his left arm.

She buckled him into the car and got into the driver's seat. And then they were off on their adventure.

"It'll be okay, Nate. We're going to start over," she said, but her face was wet. But she was his mother, and so he believed her, because mothers are always right. He felt safe in the warm car, and the dull drone of the engine lulled him to sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o

When he woke up, he didn't believe her anymore.

It was dawn, and her face was still wet, and Nate thought they were going very fast and his mother was staring at the rear view mirror instead of at the road. Everything around was moving far too fast, and then the car lurched around and he heard a scream that his mother and the car did at the same time and then –

Bang.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Drunk driver…"

"Seems like he was her husband…"

"Kid shouldn't've been in the front seat…"

"It's a miracle he's even alive…"

There was orange sky and people in all the same green clothes. They made him stay inside the car for a long time and they wouldn't let him look out the window. They told him that everything was going to be okay and they'd like to know his name, please, and whether he could feel that he was hurt anywhere. He told them through tears that almost choked him that his name was Nate River, and that he had an ear infection and that had hurt this week. He asked them why he had red on him even though he wasn't cut up and why his mother was looking at him like that, and they told him again that everything was going to be okay and that he should look at them right now instead of his mother.

Not even a scratch, they'd say later, and they'd talk about how they didn't understand it, not when they remembered the mess the two cars were in.

The next time he saw a child psychologist, they would talk about lots of things, and he would say that he missed having his mother and his father very much, even though his father made him feel scared sometimes. The child psychologist would write down that Nate River had a photographic memory, but tell Nate himself that his brain was 'like a big sponge that could soak up and hold everything', and show him with a real sponge and a bowl of water. He'd tell the doctors and social workers that this was not a good thing for a child who had experienced what Nate had. And one day, when Nate was a little older, he would agree, because he could never erase the sight of his mother's cold, unblinking eyes staring right through him and reflecting nothing but the light of a wintery dawn.

**AN**: Next to no dialogue! Sorry about that. So, what's going on? Anyone want to tell me? Hope to hear from you guys in the form of reviews. Many thanks for giving this story a go!


	2. Chapter 2: Lessons

**Author's Note**_: _I want to take a moment to thank my three reviewers for chapter one. You've no idea how encouraging it was to hear from you. Sarapsys confirmed that I seem to be doing something right, as I wasn't so vague that I was misunderstood. I'd also like to warn you all in advance that I've been changing my username a lot lately. I'm trying to find a new one that I like, but none are sticking with me.

**Chapter Two: **_**Lessons**_

**Age Six**

Nate River lived with his grandmother for three years, and for two of those he openly adored her. She sat him on her lap and showed him photographs of his mother when she was a little girl, telling him stories about the past. He memorised every one, building a picture of his mother that reminded him every day that she was not just a mother, but a complete person – she had _lived_ – and that she had had a childhood just like he had. She had lived for a long time, been a child and then grown up, before the car crash. She had existed before him and that made her seem more real somehow. His grandma had loved her too, and she and Nate continued to love her together.

"Her hair was her pride and joy when she was young," his grandma once told him, as they looked at pictures. "None of her friends had red hair… she used to wear it long – to show it off, you know. She cut it when she got married. I'll never understand why she did that…"

Nate looked closely at the photo. His mother stood among a group of friends, frozen mid-laugh.

"That boy on the right is your father… the one to the left of her is another boy they were friends with. I always thought he looked like a little ghost, that one." She fell silent, and Near looked up at her. The moment lasted only a couple of seconds, and then she continued quickly. "And over on the far side with the blond hair is a lovely girl who used to come by the house all the time…"

His father's hair was brown and his skin was tanned, just as Nate remembered it. He stared at the picture in silence for a while before he finally spoke, cutting off the end of whatever story he was supposed to have been listening to.

"Grandma, should I be angry with my dad?"

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"…No, dear. We all make mistakes, don't we?"

"It was a big mistake."

"I know, honey…" She put the photo down on the coffee table and Nate thought she looked like she had tears in her eyes. "But if we carry our anger with us forever, well… we'll never be happy, will we?"

"No?"

"And what would we gain from that?"

"Nothing, but-"

"Nothing. Now, bed," she replied with finality, shooing him off her lap and getting unsteadily to her feet. "Chop chop. School in the morning."

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Nate? Are you alright? Oh, dear, not again…"

The old woman flicked the light on and saw her grandson sat up in bed, his covers scrunched up around him. The boy was whiter even than he was normally and tears streaked his face. She went and sat on the side of his bed, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into hug. "This is going to have to stop, honey. Look at the state of you…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh, don't be, sweetie. I'm not upset with you. I just can't stand seeing you in a state like this. Was it the same dream as always?"

"Yes."

She sighed. He was never going to forget what he'd seen. Nothing she could do would erase it. All she could do was be here for him until his pain finally dulled, whenever that would be.

"I miss her…" he said quietly, before dissolving into tears again. He was shivering. "But I-I'm scared of her too because-"

"I know…" she said, feeling tears in her own eyes, too. "I know. I wish you could forget you ever saw her like that, Nate. Your mother was so beautiful and kind and she loved you so, so much… If I could make that last memory of her go away for you, I would."

"I-I'm scared…"

"I'll stay here until you fall asleep again, alright? Come on…" She pulled him off her and wrapped the covers back round him. "Please try to sleep. I promise I won't leave."

"O-okay…"

o-o-o-o-o-o

Nate's background was known to school staff as being very troubled, but to the surprise and immense pride of Nate's grandmother, the child was blessed with a level of intelligence that far outranked any other child his age at school. His first grade teacher believed that his intellectual ability surpassed even that of the fifth grade class, and he could have easily tackled middle school with appropriate teaching. As far as academic ability went, this was very much true, but his emotional development was a cause for concern. He lacked any sort of interest in other children and building friendships, and instead chose to keep to himself, showing marked discomfort in groupwork situations and refusing to play outside during recess. He became distressed if his grandmother attempted to put him in any clothing that wasn't absolutely freshly washed, and he had to be shown that there were absolutely no marks or stains to be found. It was believed that his isolated, almost-sterile behaviour was linked to the ordeal he'd suffered two years previously; after all, he had sat next to his mother's corpse and been splashed in her blood. His own father had caused the accident and died too as a result. Nate was most likely a very deeply disturbed child, and he had refused to give his trust to just anyone, instead placing it all in his only remaining relative. He was taken aside and interviewed often, but showed no improvement with time. His grandmother could not afford to send him to a professional.

After many staff meetings had been held concerning the infinitely puzzling child, it was suggested that he would skip to the third grade on a trial basis. It was thought that introducing greater intellectual challenges might improve his behaviour. However, due to concerns about his psychosocial development, it was decided that the school would see how well he coped with this move before considering placing him among students who were any older than that.

Nate was bored in the third grade.

It had nothing to do with the fact that the other children found the new boy in their class strange and stayed away from him. It was true that, as well as being only six years old, he was much smaller than a normal child of his age. His unending streak of perfect scores certainly annoyed and embarrassed the children he bested, and they chose to keep the 'nerdy runt' at arm's length. Thus, Nate spent most of his time at school alone. However, that was not why Nate was bored in the third grade. What bored him was the level of difficulty even in a higher class than he was in before. At least in the first grade he was left alone to play with toys after he had finished all of his work. In the third grade there was no class playtime, and no toys in the room to entertain him when he inevitably finished his work before the other children. There was virtually nothing that Miss Forester ever taught the class that, with the right resources, he could not have worked out or discovered for himself.

However, there were two important lessons that he did learn while he was in the third grade, and it was with the help of another child.

It was recess on a sunny Friday, and the teacher had talked Nate into going outside. He had found himself a space in the playground with some toy racecars, and settled down to play.

"Oh, Grace, don't cry… come on, tell me what happened."

Nate looked up at the sound of an adults voice, and spotted Miss Forester,. She was standing next to a girl he recognized as being in the fifth grade. The girl was sniffing and whimpering into a tissue. She shook her head, and the teacher leant down so that they were eye-level with one another. The girl whispered something in Miss Forester's ear before dissolving into hysterical tears.

"Grace, that's awful! You shouldn't be in school today! Would you like me to call your parents?"

"I – I just miss him so… so much!" the girl sobbed, apparently inattentive to Miss Forester's words. "I wish I didn't h-have to cry and be s-so sad! I-I thought the other kids might l-laugh at me…"

Miss Forester didn't seem to have noticed Nate, and so he was able to take in the conversation without being shooed away or the conversation becoming more hushed. "Listen dear… it's alright for you to cry, okay? You're not all by yourself. Lots and lots of boys and girls lose their grandparents. It's sad, but older people get sick so easily and quite often we have to say goodbye to them. I know you must miss your grandpa a lot, but I'm sure a lot of your friends would understand exactly how you're feeling today. It's completely normal."

The girl, still tearful, nodded. "I-it happened to R… Ryan last year and he c-cried too…"

"Exactly. I'm sure Ryan wouldn't laugh at you. Listen, I'm glad you told me. I'll give you a break from homework today, okay? You don't need to deal with that on top of everything else." Miss Forester went on. "Now, can I call your parents and see if they'll take you home? I think you need to be with them today."

"Uh huh," Grace replied, giving a loud sniff as she stared at the gravel, her cheeks flushed from crying.

Nate watched Miss Forester as she led Grace back towards the school building. He thought about his grandma.

It was something he'd become aware of in his short life: old people tended to die. It was also something that he'd always pushed to the back of his mind since moving in with his grandma. He'd been afraid. His parents were already gone, and he'd always been afraid that soon she might be gone too.

As much as he wanted to, however, he couldn't ignore what he'd just heard.

_Lots and lots of children…_

It was true. He knew that.

The first lesson that Nate acquired during the third grade was that he could learn by studying others. The second was that he could not take for granted that he would have his grandma for many years to come.

**Age Seven**

By the time his grandmother fell gravely ill only a year later, Nate had already started making attempts to mentally prepare himself for the loss. He had distanced himself from her, choosing not to interact with her on anything more than a superficial level; answering her questions and remaining pleasant, but never allowing himself to feel close to her. He told her he was too old to sit on her lap, even when he wanted nothing more. He still looked at the photographs, but he did so independently. He arranged them in chronological order in a line, then rearranged them with his favourite picture on the far right, then again by clarity – but he stopped asking questions. When he woke in the night with twisted metal and his mother's dead eyes crystal clear in his mind, he cried in silence, biting his hands and pulling at his hair as he fought the urge to scream.

He knew he was breaking her heart, but he also knew that it was necessary. She might be leaving soon. He might have to say goodbye. It was possible and entirely normal. Luckily, he thought, he was ready. He was always being told that he was a hundred steps ahead of the other kids, and this wouldn't be any different.

If she had to leave him, he was sure that he was ready.

The only lesson that Nate River learned in the fourth grade was that he could never, ever have been ready.

**AN: **I have to apologise for how dull that chapter was. I actually had trouble proofreading it, it was so boring. Still, if you've managed to survive it, I hope you'll stay tuned for Chapter Three: _Home_, which will be short. It's really just a little bridge to the next part, but I didn't want to put it on the end of this chapter and it doesn't fit on the start of the next part (which has already been written). Please keep me posted on what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 3: Home

**Author's Note: **Thank you for your continuing support. I've really enjoyed reading your feedback and I've found it really helpful. Here's chapter three… and it turns out that instead of being short as promised, it's actually the longest chapter so far. Oops.

Also, I went back and edited Chapter Two a little, after some food for thought from Sarapsys. No drastic changes, I just fleshed some things out a little. Enjoy the new chapter.

**Chapter Three: _Home_  
**

**Age Seven (Continued)**

"Hello, Nate."

A smiling woman in a floral shirt-dress and black tights sat down on the floor near to Nate and his building blocks. Louise Varley disguised her nerves poorly, fidgeting a little and keeping an unnatural distance between herself and the boy. She wore a badge that had the words "Student Social Worker" printed beneath her name, and Nate took her obvious tentativeness as a sign that he could easily ignore her without massive repercussions.

The young woman's smile faded slightly when she received no response from him, but bravely she continued. "How are you feeling today?"

Nate decided that he would only use green blocks for his tower. If it didn't fall before he ran out of green blocks, he'd switch to yellow after that…

"Nate…"

…And in the unlikely event that he would need to switch again, blue, because yellow and blue made green…

"Are you afraid, Nate? Is that why you're pretending you can't hear me?

Nate paused, a green block in his hand, and looked sideways at Louise Varley.

Visibly relaxing when she realised that she finally had his attention, she continued. "It's alright if you are, you know. Sometimes moving to a new place is scary, especially somewhere like a children's home. There are lots of new children here that you don't know… but think of all the wonderful friends you can make now!"

"…"

Louise watched him for a moment in silence, and then gave a small sigh. "You've really been through the wringer these last few years, haven't you, Nate?" She wasn't patronising him. His case file wasn't exactly pretty. She hesitated for a second, then had an idea. "Hey, Nate… Would you like to hear a secret?"

Curiosity prodded him to keep his attention on her.

"Sometimes I get really scared, too, and I don't feel like talking about it either. I feel so bad and I just wish with all my heart that things could get better and I could _feel_ better, but… it's just so hard to say it all out loud. That's why sometimes, I even wish that someone else would be there to say it for me, so someone out there could still know what's going on in my head and I wouldn't feel so alone. Do you ever feel that way?"

Nate regarded her in slight puzzlement, setting the building block that he'd been holding back down on the floor but not letting go of it. Finally, he nodded.

Louise smiled. "You've really helped me out, Nate, you know that? Now I know I'm not the only one who feels that way! I know, I'll let you borrow a friend of mine-" She reached into the nearby toybox and pulled out a small hand puppet in the likeness of a monkey. "You can borrow Jojo any time you want, okay?" She gave him an encouraging smile and offered the puppet to him.

Nate hesitated, then let go of his building block, took the little puppet and put it on his hand, holding it up in front of him.

"Hi, Jojo," Louise said quietly, not entirely sure where this was going to go. After a few seconds she heard a soft voice, almost a whisper.

"Hi."

She hadn't heard him speak since he'd arrived here, and now, after creating an illusion for himself that there was someone else between them, he had spoken. He must have felt a little safer. Now she was afraid that the slightest mistake would send retreating him back into his shell again. She knew she had to tread carefully. "How are you, Jojo?"

"I'm okay. I'm happy that I'm out of the toybox. How are you?"

Louise smiled at that. "I'm okay, as well! And I'm happy that you're not out and about today, too! I see you have a new friend. Would you like to tell me about him?"

A pause followed.

"His name is Nate River. He used to live at 32 Rose Crescent, Two Rivers, Manitowoc, Wisconsin. After that he lived at 15 Brooke Gardens, Mishicot, Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Today he was taken to live in a children's foster home, which is a large house far away from either of his old homes, and where lots of children with complicated families live temporarily. The adults are searching for any extended family that he can go and live with. When he asked what would happen if they couldn't find anyone, they told him he shouldn't worry about that right now and that they would deal with it. So Nate thinks that means that if they can't find any more of his family, he'll probably have to live here or go to an orphanage."

Louise tried to hide her surprise at his response. "I see… that's… quite a lot to take in, isn't it, Jojo? How does Nate feel about everything that's going on right now?"

There was a long pause in which Nate did not appear to be particularly deep in thought. In fact, he looked rather removed from the situation. His eyes wandered back to the blocks on the floor, but to Louise's puzzlement he continued to speak as the puppet.

"It hurts."

She was new to this job. Her heart still broke for these children. Their sad stories and their fractured little lives still drove her to tearful lunch breaks in the copy room, even this close to the end of her training. Still, even as she sat watching this seven-year-old boy, who was already so damaged that he'd taken refuge in the solitude that had been imposed upon him, she knew this job, and these children, were what she lived for. She could never shake the need she felt to help them, no matter what.

"What way does it hurt him?"

"Crying hurts. It hurts your eyes and your head. Special people dying hurts. He doesn't like moving away, either. Someone he likes will probably die here, too. He's going to get good at people dying soon. I guess he won't cry so much next time and it won't be as bad."

Louise just stared at him for a long time. Did this child honestly believe that people around him were going to die? "…Did Nate tell you that, Jojo?"

"No. I'm a puppet. Nate's just pretending to be me."

"What-"

Nate took the puppet off his hand, before putting it carefully down on the floor next to him and returning to his building block tower. Louise stared at him in confusion and disappointment. What had happened? Why had he stopped so abruptly? She'd read on his case file that he was extremely intelligent – perhaps the whole thing had started to feel a little stupid to him. Or maybe he'd decided he'd said far too much. Still, she thought with a degree of reluctant acceptance, she'd gotten a little out of him today. She couldn't push him any further than he wanted to go.

"When will they find out if I have any family left?"

Louise looked up – she hadn't expected him to say anything now. She tried not to show her surprise too much, though. "I don't know. We hope it'll be soon, and don't worry… we're doing our very best. Nate, we're going to search everywhere to see if you have any more family. We'll try to make sure you have a home."

"Isn't the children's home a home?"

Damn it. She didn't always think before she spoke. "Well, yes, Nate… and I'm sure you'll like it here too. We hope you'll feel at home here."

"What about if I have to go to an orphanage?"

"Don't worry about that right now, okay? Let us worry about it."

Nate paused in his building project and regarded Louise gravely, profoundly unimpressed by her response. "Miss Varley… do you really think it will be the biggest worry I've ever had to deal with?"

She didn't understand it, but somehow this seven year old made her feel very stupid and small. She decided to at least try and stop patronising him. It didn't seem to work, humouring him. "Well… then we'll start trying to find you a brand new family, if that happens."

"Alright."

"Nate-"

"Thank you."

The finality in his voice told her that their conversation was over.

o-o-o-o-o-o

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, and most of the children were outside playing. Nate had taken himself to the common room, where there were lots of old, battleworn toys, and decided to pass his afternoon there.

He looked down at Jojo. He hadn't used Jojo the way Louise had intended him to since the day he'd first been handed the puppet, but carrying it around with him did make him feel less lonely somehow. He sat down on the floor, put Jojo down next to him and reached out to pick up a plastic, multicoloured cube. He'd never seen one of those before…

"That's a Rubik's cube."

Nate looked up to see a man in his early thirties, wearing a name badge that read "Andy" and told Nate that the man was paid to talk to him.

"You have to slide the bricks around until all the sides have all the same colour. That's a pretty hard puzzle, kid. I sure can't do it. You should check out those cars in the blue box. They're pretty cool."

Nate held on to the puzzle, regarding it with some curiosity as he slid the rows into different positions. Within minutes he was absorbed in his task, determined to finish it now that he'd started it. He had to work out how to do this…

Andy watched him for a second, then shrugged and sat down to watch.

An hour later, the Rubik's cube was solved. So was every jigsaw puzzle in the room, including a 1000 piece one and a three dimensional one, and the man with the badge was showing the cube to another employee at the home.

"Is he the one that skipped two grades? Is there anything on that his record about an IQ? If there isn't then we seriously need to get someone to properly test his smarts, Emma. An hour ago he'd never even seen one of these before. What if he's like, some sort of genius or something? If he ends up in the adoption system it could really get someone interested in him…"

**Age Eight  
**

It turned out that Nate had a cousin still living in Canada that he had never met before. However, his wife had suffered a permanent back injury and was confined to an electronic wheelchair, after falling from a stunt rope during a play. They had three children already, and Nate's cousin had stated that he would be unable to care for the boy, hold down his job, raise his own kids and help his wife, too. Nate didn't even realise he _had_ any other family, so he wasn't overly surprised to find Louise speaking to him one evening about the scenario he had been told not to worry about.

"I'm so sorry, Nate. We've already found an orphanage for you, though, it'll suit you just fine…"

"Where am I going?"

Louise didn't quite manage to meet his eyes. "England. There's a very famous place there and… Well, we think it's the best place for you. It's special, for gifted children, you know? The man that owns it… he keeps an eye on sites and records all over the world and he saw the advertisement we put out – remember the one I showed you? It was when we were looking for someone to take care of you while we searched for your family. He saw the bit we wrote about your amazing brain." She smiled a little as she said that, almost like a proud mother herself. "And how much you like solving puzzles and how _great_ you are at them. He wrote to us and told us that if we couldn't find anyone in your family who could take care of you, that there'd be a place for you at the Wammy House. Nate," she went on, still eager to encourage him about the move. "This is okay. You get picked to stay there, not just anyone can go. There'll be other kids who are on your level. It'll be better than here. Mr. Wammy will make sure that you reach your potential. No dumbing down of things, you'll get taught on-site. Because teachers live there! I _know_ that, more than anything, you'd rather not need this at all and have a normal life. Of course you would. Anyone would. But with the way things have gone for you… well, this is okay."

Nate understood, but that didn't mean he was happy. He didn't want to move again – he was sick of changes – but he couldn't stay here. This was a foster home. It was for children to stay in on a temporary basis. His situation was permanent.

"England…"

"England is far away, but it's lovely, Nate," Louise assured him, aware of his strange, dark eyes fixed firmly on her. "Winchester, actually. I just know you'll like it there. You'll probably take classes that are harder than the ones I've done at university!" she said with a small laugh. "I bet you'll like that."

He didn't say anything, but Louise knew from experience that that meant nothing when it came to how Nate felt about something. He was easily her favourite out of all the children in her caseload. She knew she wasn't really supposed to take favourites, but… there was something about this strange, tiny little boy that she couldn't help liking, no matter how coldly he treated her. Something about the way he was always on the margins, excluded by the other children and confusing to the staff, all his bizarre looks and habits and the remarkable things that she knew must go on inside that snowy white head of his. He fascinated her. She would miss him immensely when he was gone, but she couldn't even put into words how glad she was that he was at least being offered this opportunity.

"When do I have to leave?" he asked suddenly.

"Two days from now. Someone from the orphanage is going to come get you, put you through a few more tests and you'll probably be on your way right after that. No point in drawing it out, eh?" She thought he might have looked a little ill, and hoped that he would finally have time to settle down somewhere after this. The poor boy probably didn't know what way up he was anymore. He had nowhere to call home because he kept getting passed around from pillar to post. No child should have had to go through this process. Every child had the right to feel safe, to a real _home_. She sighed. "I'll help you get ready for the move in any way I can, okay? Please try not to be scared… It'll be alright."

"Will it really?"

Louise watched him for a moment, and he stared right back, his eyes almost accusing her. After a moment she gave did her best to smile. "I really hope so. I really hope you'll find some happiness there. "

"Thank you. So do I."

**AN: **…Eeehh…

This was originally much longer, and Nate had been in another orphanage before going to Wammy's. I cut it down a lot. The next chapter is mostly written, but it needs serious editing because there are a lot of scenes that are fun, but probably not that necessary. So I'll have to decide what to keep and what to get rid of. Whatever makes the cut, I hope you'll join me for Chapter Four: _Mello_.


	4. Chapter 4: Mello

**Author's Note: **This is the first time I've ever had a review count in the double figures. Thank you all so much for the time you take to read and review my work. I'm really glad that I already had a lot of this chapter written a while ago, because I had to play at a gig this week and had very little time to work on anything else. It's a bit… well, bitty, but right now I've left this fic for a week, and I'm afraid I might fall out of the habit of updating it if I continue fussing. I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter Four: **_**Mello**_

**Age Eight (Continued)**

Near.

His new name was Near. He was in England. He'd wandered off, gotten lost at the airport. He'd fallen to pieces, and then he'd been found and put back together again.

Now he was in England.

His new name was Near.

He barely had time to get used to any of it.

"All ready to meet your new roommate, Near?"

No. No, he wasn't.

Near realised however that there was little point in protesting. He knew from experience now that these things just happened to him whether he was ready or not, so he waited behind the woman who had said her name was Laura as she gave him a small smile, and then knocked the door.

"Mello, are you in here?"

For a second, there was silence, and then Near heard the creak of bedsprings. There were a few heavy footsteps. Near imagined someone bulky and towering and angry behind the door and wondered whether he should be frightened.

He didn't have long to wonder. The door was pulled open and there was a blond-haired boy standing in the doorway. He was tall, but rakishly thin – not like Near had just imagined. His brown eyes flicked from Near to the lady standing between them, holding a look that was both quizzical and impatient.

"What?"

The woman seemed unfazed by Mello's attitude. "Mello, this is Near, your new roommate. " She looked at Near and smiled. "Near, this is Mello." When neither of the boys spoke, Laura glanced at Mello and continued as patiently as she could. "We told you about this yesterday, remember?

Mello's gaze slid back to Near and stayed there. He looked bored. "Right."

"I'm going to get Near's things and some fresh clothes. Then I'm going to show him where the bathrooms are so he can get cleaned up, and after that I'm going to help him unpack. I'll be back in a few minutes. Be _nice_, Mello, he's new."

Mello didn't answer Laura, instead just watching her as she turned and walked down the hallway, and then disappeared around the corner. Once she was gone, he gave Near another throwaway glance before going back into the room. Near followed him shutting the door behind him. He watched as Mello threw himself carelessly onto one of the beds, opened the top drawer of the little bedside cabinet next to him, and pulled out a bar of chocolate. Then Near went and sat down on the floor next to the bed that must therefore have been his own. There was silence. Near's left hand moved up to his hair, and he began to idly twirl a strand with his fingers.

"This is an orphanage."

Near looked up when the other boy finally spoke his first full sentence to him. He nodded to show that he was aware of the fact that had just been disclosed to him.

"That means you're an orphan."

Near didn't bother to respond to that statement.

"That means there's nobody alive that loves you anymore."

He looked up at Mello then. He wasn't sure if he liked Mello very much. Not for the reason that he should have disliked Mello – because he was speaking cruelly to him – but because he appeared to have an annoying penchant for making redundant statements.

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" Mello snapped, taking a bite out of his chocolate bar. He chewed and swallowed, and only then did he continue, because apparently he intended to enjoy his chocolate instead of talking through it. "I'm just sayin' – took me a while to get used to that. But you might as well get used to it now. Save yourself the bother."

Near continued to keep his dark eyes fixed Mello for a while until he was sure the boy felt uncomfortable, then looked back down at the floor.

"You're _tiny_."

Near felt impatience rising in his throat, almost forming words. Mello hopped off the bed, crossed the room, and leaned over him. "How old're you anyway?"

"Eight."

"So you _do_ talk." Mello eyed the smaller boy critically. "You're a baby. Why'd they stick me with a baby?" He walked back over to his bed and sat down, facing Near. "I'm ten. I'm older than you."

"Yes."

"So that means I'm in charge, okay?"

Near frowned. "In charge of what?"

"You. You're mine now."

This didn't sit well with Near. A small crease appeared between his eyebrows, but before he could say anything Laura had returned with a bag.

"Let's go get you freshened up, Near."

He got to his feet, suddenly feeling a different sense of unease. He looked around the room, before spotting a dusty toy boat on a shelf above Mello's pillow. The red plastic was faded, and it didn't look like it had been touched in years.

"…Near?"

Near and Mello both paid the lady no heed. Mello had caught Near looking near the ceiling, and followed his gaze. When he looked back, Near was looking at him instead. "Huh? Oh, whatever... Sure." Mello stood up on his bed, lifted the boat down from the shelf and tossed it over.

Near caught it, still watching Mello for a few seconds, before he turned away and left with Laura.

The door swung shut, and Mello plopped back down on his bed.

"What a freak."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Newly-clean and newly-dressed, Near spent his evening in the playroom, trying to stay _new_.

"It'll be a fresh start for you," Laura had told him as she led him to the bathroom, with a smile that he realised was supposed to be comforting. "New name, new home, new friends… it'll be good for you. A clean slate."

He'd had a lot of clean slates. How many times had he been told he was supposed to start over? It was like everyone thought they could just rub out all of his life so far, put something new there and expect him to be able to just start again like nothing had happened. He felt like an etch-a-sketch. People kept leaving their mark on his life, then someone else came along and wiped it all away and started again.

It was different to an etch-a-sketch, though. He wasn't made for this…. He was a blank sheet of paper, covered in faint shadows of old, rubbed away pencil marks. He didn't like that thought much either. He'd torn paper before by rubbing it with an eraser too hard. He wondered if he could be torn up, too. Maybe he'd be better off staying completely blank, totally white, for the rest of his life. That was why he wanted to stay new, and for the other children to stay away. He wanted to stay blank – _clean_ – and never to have to start over again.

"…Gonna draw on you."

Near looked up from the playdough in his hand and his eyes met Mello's. His roommate, standing near the door, gave him a mischievous smile.

"You… what?"

"Shut up, Mello! That's not what I said!" A fair-haired girl tripped across the room and glared at Mello before turning her gaze, pleading now, to Near. "That's not what I said!"

Near didn't say anything. He didn't know _what_ to say.

"I said I was gonna draw you!" She had an accent that reminded him of most of the staff here. She must have been English. "Not _on_ you! Mello's just being a jerk!"

Mello snorted. "Still think you should draw _on_ him. It'd be way funnier."

"Mello!" the girl shrilled, fidgeting nervously before pointedly turning away from the boy and facing Near. "I mean… um, I drew all the other kids… I just - I just wanted…"

Eyes still fixed on the girl, Near reached out for the next piece of the jigsaw and put it in its correct place.

"…I'm not creepy or anything! I just… um… I like having…"

"You collect portraits of all the other children."

"But I'm not doing it to be creepy! I-I just… wanna remember everyone…"

Behind her, Mello seemed to have gotten bored with the conversation. He leaned back against the nearby wall and slid down to the ground, before pulling another bar of chocolate out of his bag and munching eagerly on it. Near wondered where he'd gotten it. He always seemed to have one nearby.

"Um…" The girl reached up towards her hair, somewhat tentatively, and pulled a pencil from where it had been stuck in one of her pigtails. "So… could I?"

"I guess so."

"O-okay! Thank you! You don't even have to hold still or anything, I can just…" She trailed off when she realised that Near had already gone back to his puzzle and wasn't listening anymore.

"Kay…" She really didn't know how to end this conversation in a way that wasn't horribly awkward. "I'm Linda, by the way?"

She was already walking away after waiting far too long for a response when she heard him speak without looking up.

"Near."

o-o-o-o-o

"Near. Hey, Near!"

It was pitch black, but Mello had just about been able to see his new roommate's outline on the other side of the room. The smaller boy was sitting up in his bed. He _thought_ he'd heard the kid move.

"Near, go to sleep."

"I wanted to sleep earlier. I can't now."

"That's just the timezones."

"I know."

Mello sat up in bed and waited in silence for a moment, staring at Near from place on the other side of the room. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, go to sleep!"

"I can't."

"D'you need to pee or something?"

"No."

"…_Try_ and sleep?"

"No…"

A long pause followed before Mello gave a loud, dramatic sigh and flopped back onto his pillow. "You're so weird."

"I think everyone here is kind of odd," Near replied, not particularly taking offense to Mello's statement.

Mello considered this for a few seconds. "I guess. An house full orphaned supergenius kids is bound to turn out one or two crazies, you know?"

"You too."

"Yeah. I guess I'm kinda crazy, too."

Near began to twirl his hair, staring unseeingly into the dark middle distance as he turned a new question over in his head. "Mello."

"What?"

"What's your real name?"

Mello sighed again. "You can't ask that here. You don't ask anyone about anything from before Wammy's. Don't ever ask anyone else that, okay?"

"But wh-"

"You're gonna get your class schedule tomorrow, so that should give you something to do. Might shut you up."

Near let go of his hair and he held his now-free hand out in front of him, trying to see how far away he could hold it before it vanished. It didn't. He must have been getting used to the dark.

"Go to sleep."

"No."

"If I punch you, will you go to sleep?"

"No."

"You scared?"

"No."

"Yeah, you are." Mello smiled knowingly in the darkness. "Everyone's scared when they get here. You should hear some of 'em cry all night. D'you wanna cry too, little baby?"

"No."

"Liar."

Near glanced over at Mello's side of the room. "Did you cry when you came here?"

"Hey-"

"I'm within my rights to ask that," Near pointed out. "It was after you got here."

"You're such a loser. I hope you're not in my class."

For a moment, neither of them said anything as they both contemplated their brief exchange so far, each of them sizing the other up.

"What do you do, anyway?" Mello continued unexpectedly.

"What?"

"I mean, what are you? Musician? Artist? Brainbox? Why're you _here_? We're put in classes based on what we can do. That dumb girl we talked to earlier is here because she can draw like crazy."

"I'm good at solving puzzles. I have a photographic memory. I had to do some tests before I came here. Mr. Wammy had a lot of them… in one of them I even had to watch five movies at once and then tell him the plot of each one." He paused. He'd talked about his life before Wammy's. Mello didn't berate him, though. He considered asking Mello what talent had led him here, but Mello indirectly answered the question before he could even ask.

"Huh… Guess you _will_ be in my class, then," he remarked, though Near found his tone difficult to read. "Probably why they stuck you in my room."

"What do we do in our class?"

"Tell you tomorrow," Mello replied curtly. Near got the impression that Mello was happier withholding some information from him. Perhaps he preferred being more informed than his new roommate. "Now go to sleep or I'll shave your head. Fluffy."

"I'd prefer to stay awake."

"You get nightmares, don't you?" He sounded like he'd guessed this a while ago, but was bored trying to convince Near to admit it of his own accord.

"…Occasionally. Most people do at some point."

There was a short, thoughtful silence.

"I'll wake you up if you seem like you're having bad dreams, okay?"

Near wasn't sure how realistic this offer was, given that even if Near managed to sleep after the chaotic day he'd had, Mello would be sleeping too. Still, he didn't bother to argue. The room fell silent, and remained that way for the few short hours that remained until daylight.

**A/N:** Mello is in the building. Apologies again for the late update, and I hope to hear from you soon.


	5. Chapter 5: Zero

**Author's Note: **Thank you for your reviews, guys, and hello to a couple of new readers who've come aboard since the last chapter was published! I've been ill lately. When I first found out I'd have to stay home sick, I figured I'd have time to write. Then I felt so sick I couldn't even think of anything good. Then my meds made me more sick. I'm not so bad now, and I'd like to thank all of you for your patience! Without any further stalling, here's the next chapter.

**Chapter Five: **_**Zero**_

**Age Eight (Continued)**

"Basically, our class is special. There's this guy, L, and he's the best detective in the whole world! And he was at Wammy's before us, and our class is for kids who are extra smart and good at solving things. One of us is gonna get chosen someday to take over after L."

"After L what?" Near asked , a little too innocently, as they headed down the corridor to get to their classroom.

Mello chose to ignore Near's question. "I'm first. That's because I get the highest score in every single test. So basically I'm gonna be L's successor. The other kids are just wasting their time, really." He glanced at Near. "You seem kinda smart, I guess, even if you _are_ weird. Maybe you'll get to be second or something. Here."

Mello had stopped outside a classroom door with a sign on it that read 'Room 0'.

"It didn't used to be this way, but this orphanage basically runs on the purpose of choosing the next L," Mello explained, noting that Near had taken interest in the sign. "The other kids still come here, but they're not really – well, _you_ know. Kids like us, we're what this place is _really_ all about now." With a superior smirk, Mello pushed the door open and led Near into the room.

The first thing that Near noticed about the room was that there was nothing in it. Besides a handful of other children, the room was bare. Near cast a brief glance around at the curious faces of his classmates before leaving Mello's side to go and sit on the floor at the back of the room. The children watched Near for a few moments in silence, before gradually returning to their own conversations. By the time Mello had noticed that Near had gone, the white-haired boy was already clicking his way through a Rubik's cube, eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on his task.

"Hey," Mello said, also paying the others no heed and approaching Near. "Where'd you get that?"

"Pocket."

"No, but… that one has a keychain on the side. We don't have-"

Near just stared blankly up at him. After a few seconds, Mello gave a long, frustrated sigh. "What else you got in there?"

"Besides a large, plastic cube, nothing else was really going to fit, Mello."

Mello pouted. "What about the other one?"

"A tissue."

"Gross."

"It could be moreso not to have one..."

The sound of the door opening again preceded another silence. Mello and Near both looked up as a familiar old man entered the room and made his way to the front of the room.

"Get up!" Mello hissed, half-dragging Near to his feet as the other children stood.

"You can sit."

As the children all sat down again, Near plopped back down on the floor and picked up his puzzle again, wondering what on earth the point in that had been.

"First, an announcement: your next test will be in exactly one month's time. Nobody is exempt-" Near got the impression that this referred to him. "-and I would ask that you all try your best. Today's lesson will be a continuation of the crime scene study we began yesterday. I'm going to pass round some photographs…"

Near was already thinking about the test. A paper test? A practical one? Spoken word? He wondered idly as he clicked the rows of the puzzle back and forth how he'd fare against a class of what he'd been told were fellow geniuses. He looked up and observed the backs of their heads. He was glad nobody had had shown anything more than vague interest in the fact that there was a new student in the room. If the other children weren't looking at him, he was free to observe them instead. Most of them appeared, in behaviour, no different to the children from the foster home, but Near knew that making assumptions could cause him to stumble early in this class. This place was very different to his last home. Hidden or not, every child here possessed abnormal level of skill of one kind or another. The laziest or most inattentive-looking child in this class could turn out to be among the most talented. He couldn't jump to conclusions about anybody.

After a moment, he looked back down at the stolen Rubik's cube, now solved once again in his hand. He set it down on the floor in front of him and stared at the upwards-facing blue side, his now-free hand moving impulsively to his hair.

L: the greatest detective in the world.

Near had been plucked out of his unstable life, and dropped into the middle of a race to succeed a detective whose name was apparently a letter. He thought about the situation with incredulity for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together as he frowned at the blue square in his line of sight. On one hand, It all seemed a little fictitious. On the other, he had absolutely nothing to lose, and apparently, quite a lot to gain from this arrangement.

He looked across at Mello, whose attention had wandered to the window. He was first. He got the highest score in every single test.

_The other kids are just wasting their time, really… Maybe you'll get to be second or something._

Near wondered what would happen if Mello wasn't first anymore.

o-o-o-o-o-o

_A man reached out to take him by the hand. He was young, lightly-built, and had a soft, slightly tentative-looking smile that betrayed a shy yet peaceful nature. Near thought he looked almost phantasmal. The man's hair was whitish, like Near's own, but his eyes were a pale shade of grey. He was from one of the old photographs. Near recognised him immediately, and took his hand._

_They seemed to walk for hours in silence. They could have melted into their completely white surroundings, and Near almost expected them to meet a wall at any moment. After what could have been minutes or hours, they stopped, and the man let go of his hand. His mother and father were in the distance. Near left the stranger's side and approached them. His mother was younger than he ever remembered her, and yet his father appeared no younger than he had been last time they'd seen each other. He tried to call them to get their attention. No sound came out, but they both looked down at him._

_His mother screamed._

_The sound was deafening and it didn't stop. He covered his ears, but it was as though the sound was coming from inside his own head, bouncing around the inside of his skull and pressing on the back of his eyes. He looked behind him for the man who had led him here, but the ghostly stranger had vanished. His head still full of the terrible sound, he turned back to his parents._

_Her face contorted as she screamed, his mother began to age rapidly before his eyes. Her husband remained next to her, one hand gripping her shoulder in a way that did not quite appear to be comforting. He couldn't look anymore. Childish instincts taking over, he turned away and crouched down on the floor, putting his hands over his eyes. Suddenly, his whole body was thrown forwards, his breath ripped from his lungs as he was quickly jerked back again, a throbbing pain blossoming in his chest._

_He didn't dare uncover his eyes. He felt a horribly familiar wetness on the left side of his face and neck. Not again… not again… Maybe, if he just never opened his eyes…_

_To his horror, a hand grasped his shoulder roughly. He screamed._

"Wake up, dumbass! Quit squirming."

It was dark. He was disoriented, but he felt his panic fading slightly as he began to realise, more quickly than he used to, that he'd been dreaming. It was a dream with a slightly different beginning than they usually did, but a dream all the same. "…Mello?"

"I'm not gonna get any sleep _ever_ with you in here, am I?"

"I didn't mean to scream like that."

"Pfft. It wasn't even a _good_ scream," Mello said derisively, sitting down on the edge of Near's bed. "That was like… a yap. Like a little dog. I've heard way better."

Near didn't reply.

"So are you gonna go back to sleep now?"

"Yes."

Mello snorted. "You sure love to lie, huh, Fluffy? Or maybe I'll call you Squirmy now. Squirmy."

Silence.

"Naw, Fluffy's better."

"I already have a new name."

"Whatever." Mello got up off the bed. "Go to sleep. Or at least keep quiet. Only three hours 'til dawn."

Near listened to Mello's footsteps as he crossed the room. He other the springs of the other bed creak as the older boy got back into bed. He hesitated.

"…Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

**A/N:** Not my best work, but I felt a little guilty for how long I spent not updating. I may go back and edit this at some point, like I have with one or two other chapters. Next time around, Near won't be 8, I promise! Thank you for sticking around so far, guys!


	6. Chapter 6: Lost

**Author's Note**: As always, I want to thank you for being patient and sticking around, and also apologise for the lateness (and shortness) of this chapter. And now, the excuses. You would not _believe_ the time I've had, in the best way possible. Starting back to school kinda ate up my time for a while (my degree pathway is heavily focused on creative writing so when I've been writing it's been for school), but then after that… just wow. No sob-stories about how my life has been in pieces lately and I just couldn't bring myself to write. The opposite. Some fun opportunities have come up for me and I've been rushing around trying to get things sorted out for that. At the minute I've snatched a couple of hours up at uni where I don't have any class, so let's see if I can't get something good written.

**Chapter Six: **_**Lost**_

**Age Nine**

It was his second test results day. Near was first. Mello was second. The new boy was third.

As Near stood at the notice board, a few feet behind Mello, he thought about what Leanna the classroom assistant had told him months before, right after the rankings for his first exam had gone up on the big notice board.

"_You haven't even been trying."_

_Near didn't even glance up at the woman's face. "I haven't."_

"_You and Mello are close, aren't you?"_

_Near knew exactly where this conversation was heading and Leanna knew it too. She had a point that she wanted to drive home and Near didn't care enough to dodge the topic._

"_Mello and I share the same room," was the response that Near deemed adequate to answer the question._

_Leanna nodded. "Of course. Of course."_

_Near didn't feel as if he needed to reply. Leanna had followed him into the empty playroom, when she should have been outside, watching the other children who had decided to go outside and play in the sun. She had something to say. Near had no intention of prompting her._

"…_Near, are you afraid?"_

_He looked up before he'd even given himself a moment to calculate his reaction. "…Excuse me?"_

"_Don't be afraid of losing Mello's friendship. I've never seen Mello take to someone the way he's taken to you."_

_Near wondered how exactly Mello had been with his previous roommates._

"_There's nothing wrong with being second, but I know you can do better than this. Look how close your mark is to Mello's. You're second by two per cent. Your homework marks are always two per cent lower than his, too. You're doing it on purpose."_

"_Yes."_

"_You wanted us to spot that pattern; how carefully you're doing it."_

"_Yes."_

"_Because no matter how much you want to keep Mello happy, you still want us to know you've done it deliberately and you can be better."_

"_I'm always capable of being better."_

_Leanna sighed. "I don't think you're going to lose Mello if you try a little harder."_

"_I'm not worried about losing Mello if I beat his score. I'm worried about having to share a room with him afterwards."_

"_Of course."_

_Leanna irritated Near._

Still, this time he'd really tried his best. He'd started doing his classwork and his homework to the best of his ability. He'd been careful only to mention his better marks once or twice, to give Mello the impression that it hadn't happened very often. Still, he'd seen the irritation on Mello's face during those moments…

He could ignore his homework grades when they were passed back to him. He could lie about his scores. But exam results went on the notice board.

Mello was far more than irritated now. Near watched him in silence, and Mello watched the board as though he hoped that the rankings would change if he stared it down hard enough. Several hours seemed to pass before Mello turned away from the board and walked back towards their room, careful not to even look in Near's direction.

Near knew better than to follow him. For once, he went outside.

o-o-o-o-o-o

"Near."

Near's gaze shifted from the racing cars he was playing with and lingered on Mello's black shoes for a moment, before he looked up at the boy standing over him. It had only been a few hours since the results had gone up. Near wondered how this conversation was going to go. The new boy in their class hovered a few inches behind Mello, seemingly unsure of what was going on.

"This is Matt. He's gonna be in my room now. You should probably ask someone to help you move into Matt's old room."

Near had expected as much. The conversation over in his view, he went back to his cars, but Mello went on.

"He's my new best friend"

First went the blue car.

"And he's way less boring and weird than you."

Second went the red car.

"And he's older than you, and he's not a stupid little baby."

But only by a little-

He quickly moved his hands out of the way just before Mello's foot smashed one of the cars into pieces. "Fine!" He kicked the broken pieces away. Everyone else in the playroom was staring at Mello now. "See if I care! Matt!"

Mello stormed out of the room. Matt hesitated, glancing back at Near and the other children, before shrugging and leaving, too.

Leanna _really_ irritated Near.

o-o-o-o-o-o

A rush of pink fabric and a soft thud announced her arrival on the floor next to him.

"Hi, Near!"

"Linda."

She never stood over him anymore, like other people seemed to like to do when he was sitting on the floor. She always sat down next to him. Sometimes Near preferred that, and sometimes he found that he didn't like having her at eye level.

"We were thinking we might go out and play rounders! You wanna come?"

"Thank you, but no. I'm not very athletic."

Linda shrugged. "So? Neither am I. It's just _fun_, Near. You don't have to be great at everything you do, you know? You can just have fun sometimes."

"I'm alright where I am."

Linda seemed alright where she was too, really. She certainly didn't appear to have any intentions of moving. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hand creeping towards the small pile of jigsaw pieces on the floor next to them.

"Matt seems okay," she remarked out of the blue.

"He's alright. He's in my class. He started a few weeks ago."

"Couldn't all three of you just be friends?"

Near shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You don't understand."

Linda rolled her eyes, burying her hands in the pockets of her pink dress. "Obviously. Boys are so weird." She paused. "Just come out for a little while. Please? You're all on your own."

"No." The jigsaw puzzle only had one piece left to be filled in.

"It'd make my day?"

"I'm sure you'll be able to find something or someone else to do the same. Can I have my puzzle piece back?"

Linda stuck her tongue out at him and pulled the piece out of her pocket. "Fine. I guess you can have this. But I'm gonna ask you to come outside tomorrow again."

"And I will say no again."

"Then I'll just have to keep asking you every day, right?" She made as if to hand him the missing piece, before changing her mind and putting the piece into the puzzle herself.

"I suppose you'll have to."

**A/N:** Still here? Good! Thank you all so much for bearing with me while I flail around the place… Hopefully it won't be as long until the next update, but I'll be honest, I can't promise that. Thanks again, guys!


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